


Madrugada

by khaleesian



Category: The Fast and the Furious
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesian/pseuds/khaleesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian gets Dom's engine racing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madrugada

# Madrugada

# 

 

Dom was staring death in the face.

Death came in the form of a matronly woman in a new Mercedes SL. As he swerved and shot past her while she was attempting to make a left turn from Clarendon, all he saw was her startled white face glowing in the unforgiving beam of his headlights. And in the space of a breath, she was gone. She didn’t even have time to honk. As he downshifted into second to take another curve, the tires starting to scream in protest, he wondered what a woman like that was doing out so late. He grinned to himself thinking, _we’ll know in a few minutes. If she doesn’t call the cops, then we’ll know that she was up to something._

****

It was Letty who had wanted to go out. Dom wasn’t really into the scene. Mia had begged off with homework and for a second Dom had envied her that respectable, unassailable excuse. He preferred knocking back at home, beer was always cold enough and it wasn’t too loud. He couldn’t blame Letty though, he’d done his share of partying in his youth and she was a bit younger than he was. She got bored easily. The crew had trolled around a few Hollywood bars, paying too much for drinks, until Letty had felt that his attention had wandered a few too many times. She initiated a shouting match in front of a crappy dive south of the Boulevard ironically named Daddy’s.

Dom had a lot of excuses laid out like Sunday clothes for use in the morning. It was late, he was tired, he wasn’t feeling quite himself. All of which were true from a certain point of view. He was tired, tired of being the leader, tired of taking care of everyone, fulfilling everyone else’s expectations. He was definitely not feeling quite himself. And it was way too late to be doing anything about it…

Letty was much too savvy to put up with his bullshit; she had finally raised an eyebrow and flung herself into Vince’s car. She hadn’t said a word as they had sped off and in many ways that was an ominous sign. Letty was like him in that regard, the sound and fury was no cause for alarm, but cold and quiet meant that bad was looking at worse. Dom had clenched his fists in frustration and had missed Jesse and Leon exchanging glances. When he turned around they were deep in a studiously technical discussion, ducking into the VW, and making noises like they were going to head straight to the garage to settle the issue. Only Brian remained.

Brian was looking at him and it wasn’t challenging, it wasn’t pitying, it wasn’t speculative, but he had no other way to respond so he growled, “What’re you looking at?”

Brian shrugged, was it just Dom’s freaky imagination or did Brian seem freer, looser somehow, now that they were alone?

“Let’s go get a burger, man.”

“Nothing’s open.” Dom wondered when he’d reverted back to being 5 years old.

Brian grinned and slid into the truck, “Now that’s where you’re wrong. This is Hollywood, not the neighborhood, man. Fred 62’s open all night and it’s not far. C’mon.”

Dom wanted to be contrary, but it was almost impossible not to buy whatever Brian was selling when he smiled at you like that. He wondered idly how long his sister could hold out against Brian’s considerable charm, until it occurred to him that that train of thought would ultimately end in him feeling weird and pissed off, so he stopped thinking about it. They went and ate the retro-funky diner food and Brian made him laugh out loud with his made-up pedigrees of the other patrons. When they left around three, Dom was feeling almost relaxed but he didn’t really want to go home just yet. He couldn’t think of anything else to do that wouldn’t sound dumb.

They headed back down Franklin, Dom checking the rearview every couple of minutes to make sure the kid didn’t get lost in the crappy neighborhood. The wash of neon over sections of Brian’s face made him look like some piece of modern art. Once Brian had to tap the horn after Dom had paused too long at a light, just looking. At the next light, Brian pulled over next to him. Dom felt his heart start to pound as they just sat with the engines idling. Brian was staring at him.

“Hey,” the kid said finally. “Let’s turn right here.”

“Home’s that way,” protested Dom, feebly, pointing left.

“What are you? Tired?” Brian was grinning at him again. “Let’s go have some fun. Let’s race.”

“Where? In Hollywood?” Dom started to chuckle, surely the kid was just trying to make him laugh some more.

“Nah,” Brian dared him with a smirk, “Mulholland.” And just like that he turned up a canyon road and was gone.

Dom had to gun it to follow him and he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he decided to be perfectly honest, was called nerves.

The point here was not speed or rather, speed was only part of it. Mulholland Drive, on the ridge that separated Los Angeles from the San Fernando Valley, demanded rigorous attention and canny handling at the best of times, say in bright daylight after a cup of coffee. Two hours before dawn, with four (or five) Coronas under his belt, navigating the twists and turns of the ridge road was downright challenging. It was a single lane, mostly. The high ridge bore the brunt of the winter rains, so it was often pitted with potholes. The edges were frayed asphalt, mudslides, earthquakes, the hills were always trying to take back the road despite the funds that were constantly poured into it. Because Mulholland was home to some truly expensive real estate and in this town that was saying something. It would be crawling with rent-a-cops. And Brian wanted to race.

Dom pulled up beside Brian to turn left from Laurel Canyon. He was in the wrong lane but at this point it didn’t seem to matter. He caught Brian’s eye and made a quick chopping gesture and then turned up his hands. The kid could read his signals better than anyone and Brian smiled at the question: What’s the finish line? He held up four fingers, circled his fingers in an O, then held up all five fingers. Dom’s nervousness kicked up another notch. The highway was almost eight miles from here…but Brian couldn’t have been clearer. They were racing to Interstate 405. There was a brief moment where Dom wanted to say, just screw it. This is too dangerous. But a small part of him, the kid part, the guy who wasn’t worried about everything all the time said, _why not? This is gonna be great!_

Dom wasn’t really paying attention, but when the light changed and Brian squealed off, he reacted purely on instinct. His race brain took over and he went with it. His muscles settled into that state of loose tightness or tight looseness that allowed him to make the incremental turns of the wheel that were essential at speed. They were even more essential here as he settled into his first banked hairpin turn.

Brian was up ahead of him and he allowed part of his mind to admire the kid’s skill and daring. Brian wasn’t the best at maxing his speed on the straightaway, but he knew his way around a curve. Dom was amazed to discover that even with the handicap of the truck, he was having trouble catching up. He set himself to hug the center line as best he could, focused on that and eased into third gear. The road was pitch black dark for the most part, the trees obscuring the city lights. The only guidance was the glowing center line and the occasional reflector. Was it better not to see death coming?

“Use the force, Luke.” Dom murmured to himself. He concentrated on feeling the road through the tires. The minute gradations that whispered, this is a turn, this is a dip, this is a bad idea. Damn it, Brian’s taillights were still taunting him. C’mon, C’mon, he’s in a truck, you’re in a car, what’s the problem, here? The kid didn’t press the brake nearly enough. All Dom needed was a straight stretch and then he could even the score. If he could pass the kid, Dom could probably get him to ease up a bit.

At Coldwater Canyon he saw the chance and took it. The road widened to accommodate the turn lanes and Dom downshifted and gunned it, swerving around the truck and neatly through the hole. He had a moment to relax before he noticed that the fact that Brian was in a truck and he was in a souped-up Nissan meant that he was going to be constantly blinded by the tailgating maniac. Brian definitely had balls of steel. The truck had a much higher center of gravity and would be exceedingly likely to tip over with little provocation.

Brian was using every intimidation tactic in the book to try to get over on Dom. His engine was roaring and he weaved from one side of the road to another in an effort to pass. He was doing everything short of tapping Dom’s rear bumper. Dom dared a glance into the rearview and just managed to see the lower part of his face. Brian’s lips were pursed, pressed together. He almost looked as if he were trying not to laugh.

There was perhaps 200 yards of straightaway ahead and Dom was going to make it count, let the tachometer scream before braking sharply, twisting into the turn because, whoa, that next one looked like a doozy, less of a turn and more of a fucking corner that curved back in on itself. Dom stiffened his left arm and drew his right down; it almost seemed as if he was pulling the car through the turn by main force. Once through the turn, he shifted up and tried to let his gut make the calculations of the next physics equation that the road would throw at them. His eyes strained to focus on the thready silver line that was the only source of guidance, when there was a roaring in his ears and a warm blast of exhaust and Brian had passed him. Passed him. The kid had passed him. This was insane. Brian was certifiably nuts. More importantly, was Brian going to be able to make the next turn?

Dom had a vision of the truck in front of him tilting left, left, left. The front axle would buckle under the g-forces and the truck would somersault down the hill snapping branches and spinning crazily. It would come to rest the windows shattered, the metal crumpled, perhaps on fire, with Brian unconscious and bleeding inside. Everything seemed to go quiet as the moments stretched in his head. Up ahead the truck careened around the corner on two wheels, straddling both lanes. Dom didn’t breathe until he couldn’t see the taillights anymore and then he was in the curve, pushing his weight down on the driver’s side, for all the good it would do. Time stopped and the waxy scent of the star jasmine wafted over him. I must be getting old, when did I start caring? Dom thought. Brian was surely dead, but the road wasn’t giving up any clues. Dom caught a flicker of red in the corner of his eye and took his eyes from the road ahead for long seconds to chase the flickering lights on the shadowy hills just ahead. Christ. Brian had stuck the landing. The kid was racketing around the next bend in a low gear, tap dancing on the brakes.

Dom’s heart slowly eased back into his chest, the road was growing a steady and distinct grade. That was a good sign, there was one big hill up in Bel Air then smooth sailing and wide lanes down to the highway. With any luck, they would be home in time to catch a few winks before he had to be at the garage and Brian had to be at Harry’s. Dom grinned to himself. He wondered if Harry had an inkling of what Brian put his truck through.

In the long stretch downhill to the highway, Dom could have easily left Brian breathing his exhaust. But when he pulled up beside the truck, Brian gave him a blissful grin and wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Dom just crack up. They sped side by side over the freeway overpass.

It was then that they both heard the sirens. The thin shrieks meant the cops were still far away, but there were definitely more than two. Dom pulled to a stop and checked the sky for helicopters. Brian pulled up beside him, still grinning like a madman.

“We should split up,” Dom’s voice was low and urgent.

“Nah, follow me. I know a place.” And with that cryptic statement, Brian sped up the hill on the far side of the highway.

Another series of twists and turns, even more challenging because now they were going steadily upward. This was completely uncharted territory as far as Dom was concerned. He hadn’t known that the road continued. Brian roared through a stop sign; the other road dipped sharply into the valley. Where the hell was he planning on going? Dom had a quick vision of their arrest, they’d be like rats in a trap at the end of this road. Dom was getting progressively more disoriented. The road pitched into a steep grade, he downshifted to second. Now he could hear the police sirens, three of them, closer and closer. The road was getting narrower and narrower. They passed a church, perched out on a ledge facing the sea of lights, its windows luminous.

Just when Dom felt like he couldn’t bear the tension anymore, Brian turned left abruptly at the high edge of a razor sharp turn. Dom followed him numbly even though his nerves were singing, hey there’s no road there! It took a moment to realize that the low grinding noise was his tires on gravel and dirt. The paved road had turned down into the valley, but they were headed up again. On a dirt road.

They pulled a quarter mile up this mysterious road, past the first sharp turn. Brian turned off into a spot that would be invisible from Mulholland, under some twisted live oaks and Dom pulled in behind him. Dom swung out of the car a bare moment after killing the engine. They waited in tense silence while the sirens grew in intensity, until they seemed just right around the corner, almost on top of them. They echoed, bouncing off the hills for long seconds, then faded and slowly died.

Dom wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, leap onto the car and howl at the moon. The kid had done it again, befuddled the cops and effortlessly rescued Dom from his inner demons. All the problems that had been weighing on him, all the niggling doubts shrank back to their proper place. Elated. He felt elated, swollen with excitement, adrenaline and triumph. He walked quickly in a tight circle to ease off some of the pressure.

“What is this?” asked Dom, after he’d taken in his surroundings. The glow from the city lights was muted by the scrubby trees that crowded over the rutted road. The scent of eucalyptus wafting up from below filled his nose. They were almost at the crest of a hill that absorbed light from LA and the Valley. The layer of fog that enshrouded the coast every night around this time gave the sky a peculiar pinky-gray glow and when the air moved, Dom could smell the ocean.

“It’s a fire road through the park up here. This is part of the state park,” Brian pointed west to where all the lights dimmed. “Keep following it and it turns into Malibu. We should come up here in daylight, man. It’s a great hike.” Brian suddenly threw himself into the air. “That was infuckingcredible! That was a race, man!” He practically bounced with enthusiasm.

“You’re one crazy motherfucker.” Dom kept his voice low and on the edge of indifferent.

“S’why you like me,” Brian’s grin was a glow in the darkness. “I’m full of surprises.”

 

“You’re full of shit.” Dom purposefully looked away, lowering his voice to make sure the emotion wouldn’t bleed through. “You had me worried there a coupla times…I thought I’d seen the last of you on that curve by the reservoir.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy to get rid of,” Brian said in a tone calculated to start trouble. “You’re getting slow, old man. It’s getting a little too easy to tap that ass.”

Dom gave himself a five step handicap before he took up the chase. Brian was pretty fast considering that he was laughing like a loon. Dom let him run until he stumbled on the gravel before pouncing on him, tucking him into a headlock and dragging him back towards the cars.

“Old man? Old man? Do you even know what you’re talking about? No, you don’t.”

“Nah, I never do. But you need someone to break you out of your head sometimes, man.” Brian’s breath was warm when it gusted over Dom’s forearm. He staggered along docilely for a moment tucked under Dom’s arm like a package. Dom grinned with one hand in Brian’s hair and the other arm around his throat and he didn’t know what he was going to do with him when he got back to the cars, but this was fun, it was really fun, it was great that Brian never seemed afraid of him or what he might do.

It turned out that Brian’s docility was just his way of seeking an opening. Almost all the way back down the hill, Brian swung one long arm across the back of Dom’s knees and wrenched his body sideways in a manner designed to throw Dom off balance. Dom fell to one knee and released his prisoner. Brian went down on all fours, but instead of scrambling to get away, he turned around crabwise and flung himself at Dom. That move was so unexpected that Dom actually whuffed breathless backwards into the dirt with Brian squirming on top of him like a Tasmanian devil. As soon as he could breathe again, he vaulted up, flipped Brian over and straddled him. He grabbed both pummeling fists and rocked backwards onto his heels, drawing both of them slowly upright. He considered that his sudden light-headedness was just because they were practically under the truck now, damn thing was still leaking exhaust.

“Careful, kid. You don’t want to get my blood up. Mess with the bull…” Dom looked out from under his brows in a way that made most guys back up a few steps.

“I could take you,” Brian was gasping with laughter and his eyes glittered.

“Oh, really?” Dom arched an eyebrow. “Take me where?”

“I could take anything you’ve got.” Brian had clenched his teeth and pressed forward again, mulishly indifferent to the fact that his strategy was flawed. Dom opened his mouth to lecture him, Brian should know better to go chest to chest when he was so obviously outweighed even when playfighting. Brian should keep his distance, use his long reach and speed to punch straight forward and duck roundhouse blows. Just then, Brian landed a solid knock to his kidney. Dom gritted his teeth and reflected that most kids had to learn by doing. The easiest way to stop this would be to pop the kid a good one on his nose, or mouth or cheekbone. But Dom knew as soon as the thought floated through his mind that he wasn’t going to hit Brian in the face. Not because it was a nice face and, no, not because he didn’t want this little wrestling match to end anytime soon. They were just blowing off steam, after all.

Dom ducked a wild punch and pushed Brian back inexorably, back up against the truck. Surely, Brian knew better than this…he had seen with his own eyes that Brian was a better fighter than his lean form suggested. Brian didn’t seem to be really trying…perhaps the kid was more tired than he let on. What exactly was Brian trying to prove? Dom decided to end it before someone forgot to pull their punches and went home sore.

Their heads were side by side, their shoulders flush against each other. It was an easy thing to press Brian up against the high side of the truck and use the counterpressure to grab his hands. With his upper torso immobilized, Brian’s next move was to kick at Dom’s shins; the kid was not a quitter. Dom nudged his knee in between the kid’s legs and leaned all his weight against his writhing chest. Dom had just opened his mouth to ask just what the hell Brian thought he was doing when suddenly Brian froze, Dom froze, silence reigned, but for their heaving breath. How was it possible that in the confusion, he had neglected to notice that he had grown hard? Dom was excited, yeah, but that was just adrenaline, right, that was just reaction, surely. But Brian was having the same reaction….

Dom pressed his lips together and tilted his head back. In the glowing light of the valley, Brian’s face was ///perfect/// strangely angelic, his eyes wide, his mouth half open. What was happening here? Even now, there was no fear in Brian’s eyes. If Brian wasn’t afraid of his reaction, Brian was…? Did he dare think that? Dom’s head swam. Brian’s last words returned to him. At the time it had sounded like a cocky dare, in hindsight, was it an invitation?

“Take it, then,” Dom whispered and stepped back a few inches. It was easier than he expected, with the weight removed from his chest, Brian simply slid to his knees. He pressed his face into Dom’s thigh, then rubbed his forehead across Dom’s groin. At that sudden jolt of sensation, Dom had to quickly grip the side of the truck to keep his own knees from buckling. After he fought his breath back under control, he slid his hand back into Brian’s hair. Brian arched his neck and moaned softly.

Dom wasn’t sure if he was going to survive this. It felt like Brian was pulling open his skin, when really, Brian was just unzipping him. He bent his head down and concentrated on running his fingers through Brian’s curls, stifling the urge to cram his newly freed cock down Brian’s throat. Brian wasn’t messing around. He squeezed the base of Dom’s cock and thrust it into his mouth like it was something he couldn’t draw breath without.

Dom’s breath grew shorter and shorter as Brian pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Dom’s cock and took a long slow taste. With his tongue just tickling the slit, Brian looked up and caught Dom’s eyes. The clear hunger in Brian’s eyes turned out to be Dom’s Achilles heel. His body, usually his most reliable ally, suddenly seemed beyond his control. He came in long shudders, dimly realizing that he was spurting onto Brian’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped when his breath returned.

Brian fisted the coarse denim that still clung to Dom’s legs and drew himself slowly upright. Dom found himself almost dreading meeting Brian’s eyes. When he finally did, it was as bad as he had expected, his cock twitched and seemed to swell. Dom was still so hard it was almost painful but the image of opalescent drops on Brian’s beautiful face was easily the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Then Dom had to do some quick revising of what constituted the sexiest thing he’d ever seen as Brian proceeded to wipe his face and lick his fingers and then smile as if he’d won some sort of sexual lottery.

“Make it up to me.” Brian’s voice was astonishingly even.

He nudged Dom gently with his shoulder and then walked around the side of the truck. Dom followed him, wondering when the other shoe would drop resoundingly.

Brian flipped down the back of the truck and vaulted himself into the bed and started rummaging around in the chest that was bolted to the cab. Dom’s anxiety grew until Brian wordlessly brandished the object of his search. A sleeping bag. Cool. They could be comfortable. Why not?

Brian unzipped the bag with the same facility that he had demonstrated on Dom just a few minutes ago. In moments, he had created a bed of sorts across the wide bed of the truck. He knelt on it, his knees spread in a V. When he looked up at Dom again, his face had gone abruptly shy. Dom hated himself for just standing there, his pants still rolled around his hips. But he was frozen, doubt, fear assailed him. He could not fuck this up and he didn’t even know how to start.

Brian cocked his head to one side, ran a distracted hand over his crotch and said, “I’d ask you if you wanted to stargaze, but this is LA.”

Dom almost choked on his laughter and suddenly everything was okay again. He pushed himself up onto the truckbed and crawled up to Brian and bit at where he thought Brian’s right nipple was hiding under his thin T-shirt. Brian yelped and grabbed the edges of Dom’s own shirt and tugged it off. Dom nipped softly on Brian’s ribs, collarbone, the bone in his shoulder. He raised his head with the fabric still gripped in his teeth and slowly worked Brian out of his shirt. Just running the tips of his fingers over Brian’s chest was almost too much to bear.

Brian looked at him with eyes like a dare while he jerked at his fly. Dom couldn’t stop his hands from seeking out the smooth flesh, so familiar and yet foreign. Brian’s gasp as Dom pressed his palm over his cock was very satisfying. Dom rubbed the skin between his thumb and forefinger wanting to memorize every texture. His other hand skimmed Brian’s pants down to his knees. Brian finally grabbed his wrist and pulled it up to his mouth. He bit the web of skin between Dom’s thumb and index finger and then sucked both into his mouth. Dom gripped his own cock brutally to maintain a semblance of control.

Brian had turned back to the chest against the hood and was rummaging again. Dom ran his hand up the latticework of bone and muscle in that lean back. He pressed his lips to the space between Brian’s shoulderblades. Brian stopped digging his hand through the clutter of the chest and Dom noticed that he was squinting at a squeeze bottle that he had extracted from the mess. Dom took one look at the label and the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

His brain was suddenly replaced by a vicious animal lust. When Brian twisted around and caught his expression, his eyes widened for a second and then went liquid with heat. Dom held out his cupped hand wordlessly and Brian squeezed the industrial strength lubricant into it. Brian’s lips were twisted almost into a sneer, he was taunting Dom, daring him.

Dom pumped twice into his oily palm and then savagely thrust his fingers into Brian’s cleft. Brian cried out and then stopped breathing entirely as Dom stroked him up from the inside. Brian bent almost double over the box and his hands grasped the edges as he arched back against Dom’s assault. Dom twisted his fingers and rubbed the side of his face up the length of Brian’s spine. Distraction, he thought as Brian’s body tensed around his retreating fingers, distraction is key. Dom sank his teeth into the side of Brian’s neck and as Brian huffed in shock, Dom drove his cock into that slick burning tightness.

Brian pushed back defiantly as Dom caressed his chest, pinched his nipples and ran both hands down that washboard stomach to meet between his spread knees. Brian was shaking like a leaf as Dom drew him back into the cradle of his kneeling body. Dom gripped Brian’s twitching cock with his oil slick hand and clasped it in his own trembling fist. The tickle of his hair against Dom’s smooth skull and shoulder drove Dom into a frenzy. He grabbed one of Brian’s shoulders for leverage and thrust blindly, squeezing Brian’s cock in a desperate grip. Dom muffled his yell in Brian’s shoulder, the sound of Brian’s pleasure was swallowed by the fog.

Dom woke to find his chin hooked over Brian’s shoulder, the warmth between them barely making headway against the chill. Dom ruefully considered that he felt amazing considering that they hadn’t even taken their shoes off. Brian was slim but solid, smooth but not really soft. How he felt in Dom’s arms made Dom’s eyes squeeze shut. It also made Dom nervous.

“This is pretty complicated,” he muttered into the back of Brian’s neck.

“No, it’s real simple,” Brian’s voice was barely a sigh.

Dom exhaled and noticed that Brian was suddenly a lot easier to see. The sky was lightening, dawn piercing the morning haze, revealing two filthy men. They were coated in dust, sweat, oil and…more intimate…fluids.

Dom was tensing, tightening, in the light of day, his earlier elation seemed far away. Was this going to be one more thing to worry about? What was Brian going to expect from him now? He turned Brian roughly onto his back and asked gruffly, “What do you **want**?”

Brian tilted his chin up and closed his eyes. Dom leaned in and when Brian opened his eyes it was like striking a match.

“Coffee,” Brian nodded to himself, “Maybe a doughnut.”

 

Okay. Maybe it was that simple.

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Story notes: Madrugada is a Catalan term for the early morning time between the bars closing and dawn. This is the only conceivable time that the events described here would be possible. Please, please, please do not try this at home. Es muy peligroso. This story is my love letter to one of the best drives in Los Angeles.


End file.
